


Falling Forwards

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: Bending Backwards [2]
Category: The Avengers
Genre: Angst, Flashback, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Tony Has Issues, trigger - Freeform, whats wrong with Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Close his eyes and he’s back there.</p>
<p>Open them and he can’t breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Forwards

Close his eyes and he’s back there.

Open them and he can’t breathe.

It’s the aftermath of Afghanistan all over again.

Or, technically, it really is the aftermath of Afghanistan all over again, because he got kidnapped in the same place, and Tony can’t even find it ironic anymore.

So yeah, it’s the same. 

He screams in his sleep. He flinches when he shouldn’t. 

But different dreams:

That low voice, full of razors, crooning behind his eyelids. The slick of his blood running down his spine. Hoarse throat, neck, ankles and wrists rubbed raw. Hands sliding up his legs almost gently, never really touching but making him feel dirty anyway, with that loping whisper and ragged smile.

Dark room, again. Empty stomach, again. Alastair grinning and telling him that it’s lovely to see him, that they’re going to have a wonderful time, that he never really left, no no _no no no-_

-

"Morning," Bruce says to him as he sideswipes him for a coffee.

"Ghnn," Tony grunts back, forever the morning person. "Don't bother with the machine. We're all out."

Bruce's fingers twitch. "I can't function without coff-"

"I'll buy some more, chill," Clint says, holding out his hands like he's calming a wild deer. "Don't Hulk out in the kitchen again, man, it took forever to clean up last time."

Bruce frowns, affronted, but at this point Tony has tuned out and is sipping his coffee.

Thor walks past in a towel- he hasn't been clothed in a few days.

Jane is over. Kind of self-explanatory. 

Natasha bumps shoulders with Tony as she passes, in a way that could probably pass as comforting, and they nod at each other before Tony reaches over for a bagel.

It strikes him then:

Bruce is humming.

More than that, he's muttering a song under his breath:

“-Went down to londontown, to-"

_Dark. Warm mouth. Cold knife._

"-ave a little fun in the underground, the la-"

_Hard knuckles. Teeth on his jaw. Those sweet, sickly whispers._

"-turned their heads around, singi-"

_Blood. The tang of it on his tongue. The grate of that voice. Skin splitting open._

"-onald where's your trousers-"

Someone's saying his name _(bright blood on his palms)_ and people are looking at him _(mouth right next to his ear, crooning)_ there's a hand on his shoulder _(Alastair)._

Tony recoils, backs into the cupboard, and there's someone coming towards him _(Alastair),_ still saying his name _(Alastair),_ and it's the same hand that was on his shoulder before.

Tony is shaking. He doesn't think before swinging a fist. It impacts, and he swings the other fist and he's not thinking of fighting techniques, or how to block a punch, he just want to get away wants them to get away from him they can't touch him no please don't no-

"Tony!"

The sharp smack of pain of his hand hitting the wall finally snaps him back into reality. It's then that Tony realizes that he's said at least half of that out loud.

His breathing is ragged. Everyone's staring at him, and Steve- Steve, who had put a hand on his shoulder, who had said his name, who he had repeatedly hit, fuck- 

"I'm going for a fly," Tony announces, and hates his voice for how much it wobbles.

Steve is too bewildered to not let himself be pushed out of the way by Tony as he walks jerkily to the amour.

His brain finally kicks into action as the faceplate slams over Tony's face.

"Tony-"

"Sorry for punching you," Tony says, and then he's gone, baby, gone.

-

Flying.

Flying is simple. Really. There's a matter with the repulsors, and the angle of his armour-

Tony lets the numbers wash over him. They're a comforting weight, warm and unflinching.

He's above the clouds now, and it's the closest thing to calm that he's ever had. The vision of serenity.

He's done this a lot. Just taken off to the clouds and tried to stop thinking. And, because he's Tony Stark and it's impossible, thought about numbers and only numbers until his muscles ache from holding the armour in the same position.

-

He's somewhere in Maryland when he lands.

He stays there for three hours, walking around in the Iron Man suit and getting his picture snapped by the paparazzi and hating it, because he's been doing this forever, because he's Tony Stark and he doesn't know how else to live and he's flashy and an asshole and-

He takes off and doesn't land for another four hours.

-

Steve drums his fingers on his thighs. It's getting dark and Tony's not back yet, he's been gone for the whole damn day, shit-

"He'll be fine," Natasha says, and Steve glances at her.

Natasha shrugs. "Let's just say he's not the only one who's had to deal with PTSD. Sometimes you just need to cool off. It'll take a while, but he'll be okay."

"Mm," Steve says into his hands, and, when his brain kicks in again, he says, "thanks, Tash."

Natasha flips a knife over in her hand. "No problem. Now move, Supernanny's on and Coulson asked me to tape it for him."

Steve opens his mouth to ask how the hell the thing actually works, but the sound of repulsors stop him.

He's out of his chair in less than a second.

Tony doesn't look at him as the suit turns back into a suitcase- and seriously, Steve doesn't even _want_ to know how that works- and shoves it onto a table, still not looking at Steve.

"Let's just go to bed, okay?" Tony says, and his voice is steady again and Steve just pulls him in and wraps him in a hug.

Tony sags against him.

\- 

Steve tries to concentrate on his breathing.

In.

Out.

_Sleep. Go to sleep. Tony will be here when you wake up. He’ll be fine. Go to sleep._

In.

Out. 

He turns so he’s facing Tony, just in case. He reaches to rest a hand near Tony’s hair.

“No,” Tony mumbles, barely loud enough to be heard.

Steve freezes.

Tony turns slightly, enough for Steve to see how contorted his face is becoming.

Tony bolts up in his bed, the sheets heavy and smothering. He’s on the ‘n’ in ‘don’t’ when he cuts off, shaking, one hand pressed to the arc reactor. 

"Ton-"

"Shut up, I'm fine," Tony barks, and then winces. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just-" he shoves his hand shakily through his hair.

It kills Steve to see Tony like this. "You'll be fine," he says, because everyone's been saying it and Steve wants it to be true more than anything in the damn world. 

Tony laughs, but it comes out bitter. "Yeah. Sure."

"Hey," Steve says, sliding his arms around him and tugging him so he's leaning against Steve's chest. "You'll be fine. We'll be fine. Everything's going to be okay. I love you."

Tony turns his head so he looks at him. A muscle ticks at the corner of his mouth, so Steve kisses it. 

Tony sucks in a breath, and it comes out as a half-sob.

His head falls into Steve's collarbone, and he clutches Steve like he's drowning.

"I love you. You'll be fine," Steve says into Tony's hair, one hand stroking warm circles into his shoulder. 

They lie back, tangled together, and Steve pulls the covers over them.


End file.
